


Mare Oceanum

by EtherealZenith



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace's older sister, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Not everyone on this list has appeared yet, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealZenith/pseuds/EtherealZenith
Summary: It was purely a twist of fate that a girl was born a few years before Ace was born. A sister with a strange connection to the ocean and with memories of another world. How would the life of Ace, Luffy and Sabo differ with the addition of an older sister?





	

Memories were fractured and unreliable things, dreams and reality blur in time as it passes. But for the girl, her memories had always been vivid. Objects that didn’t exist, places so huge and grandiose that they couldn’t possibly be in this world that belongs to the sea. Those memories were her life raft during the beginning. If anyone were to ask her what the first thing she remembered was, she could only say she didn’t have a clue. There was no ‘start’, no one moment where the lights just switched on, her earliest memories had disappeared and all she had was her first realisation of the existence woman with hair the colour of starlight. Her blurred, undeveloped eyes knew another face too, this one at least half made up by a smile so bright it almost blinded her.

These two and the memories were her only visual confirmation of another existence after her death, a memory that was one of the first to arrive. As her world expanded with the slow introduction of her senses, her understanding of the two people she knew did too. The woman was calm and gentle, but her hands had calluses that spoke of a different life and her eyes held an inner fire stronger even than the man.

The man was a different kind of mesmerising, his eyes had this strange light to them despite his goofy exterior. He seemed to know some things, he would pick up an object she was thinking about and hand it to her without even thinking. More than his strange power, his smile was her favourite thing. The warmth in that big, bright grin was second to none, not even her mother. Her father loved her more than anything, of that she was sure.

Time passed, the strange babble that the adults spoke slowly began to make a strange sort of sense and eventually she realised that the strange word they kept repeating in her presence was her name, Anne. Speech was still beyond her but she began to _understand_ , even walking was too much but as she aged she learned the art of crawling.

This was a game which she enjoyed very much and she spent long hours, or at least what felt like hours to her, chasing her father around the small house. Of a night time, her mother would sing her songs about the ocean which her father would always hum along to quietly. One day, her father picked her up and took her on an adventure, he spoke to her about where they were going and it was only when she got to the place that she realised it was a secluded beach.

Shrouded in the shade of an overhanging of cliff and with a slope of rock up one side that creating an abnormal staircase that they descended to the sight of a large ship bobbing along in the deeper water. Her father raised a hand and called out to someone who responded with a cheer and soon Anne and her father were aboard the large ship where a large number of the crew crowded around her with a litany of greetings.

“Men,” her father announced with his traditional bright grin “this is my daughter, Anne. Princess, this is my crew.” The first face she saw was a blonde man with round glasses who nodded to her with a cheeky smile, naming himself as Rayleigh – a name which she had terrible trouble trying to say. Crocus was next, his expression twisted with disgruntlement but belied by the brightness in his eyes.

The crew was rather large and colourful, all kind despite the scars on their faces and weapons at their sides. They were all praising ‘Captain Roger’ for having such a cute daughter. Her father, Roger, lastly introduced her to the youngest members of the crew. It seems almost ridiculous when thinking back but when her eyes met the bright red locks of Shanks and the strange image of Buggy and his bright red nose, she knew suddenly where she was, vague though the memories of a show named One Piece were.

Unconcerned by her sudden silence, Shanks introduced himself by lifting the straw hat from his head and bowing slightly before her. This, the other members of the crew found immeasurably funny as they burst into laughter.

One of the crew members, voice full of laughter, cried “What’s all that about, brat?”

Shanks took the laughter with grace, placing the hat firmly atop his head and grinning a grin that almost mirrored Rogers. “Well, she’s a princess you’ve gotta be polite.”

Buggy, who had been sulking off to the side at this point, took the opportunity to greet her as the crew teased Shanks loudly. His eyes darting quickly to the side as he checked he wasn’t being watched beyond the knowing gaze of his captain, Buggy did a little bow and offered her a gruff, but no less kind, hello.

Some of the crew drifted off, calling to their captain about a ‘supply run’ but the rest found themselves a slave to her whims as Roger placed her on the deck of the ship. Shanks sounded out his name in slow syllables which Anne repeated back to him faithfully, yet only really sounded like ‘ssaasss’ to the trained ear, the ‘nk’ of Shanks name proving too difficult for her to say. This quickly turned into something of a competition as they all repeated their names with the same slow measured tone Shanks used.

Even Rayleigh joined it, with every attempt she made at saying the names the crew fell about themselves with laughter and praise. Eventually Roger swung her up and said with a bright smile, “Papa”

And Anne, each attempt at the crew members names getting more and more legible, repeated back to him softly “Papa.” This word had the loudest roar yet from the crew as they talked over each other with booming voices. Roger was as still as stone save for the smile growing and growing on his face which grew until it broke into audio in the form of loud laughter which nearly silenced the crew.

“My daughters first word. Rouge’s gunna be so mad. LET’S PARTY MEN.”

**

Despite her age, Anne would never forget those memories of her father, though they became fuzzier as the years passed, she always remembered the sight of her father laughing with his crew, Rayleigh at his shoulder, a drink being shared between them. That afternoon when they got home, Roger was firmly scolded for drinking around her and Rouge also burst into happy tears as she repeated her new word over and over.

These times were some of the best of times, but they did not last forever. With Anne growing older, Roger went out at sea for longer ventures and Anne spent more time getting to know the formidable Rouge. On the days where they would venture into the little village, Rouge was someone who earned much respect from the villagers she knew and though she smiled sweetly and looked picture perfect in her sundress, her eyes were always firm and strong things only ever tarnished by the fierce love she held for Anne.

Sea shanties were the music of her childhood, each song telling of a life upon the waves, some of pirates and some of marines and all of them magical to Anne. On the days when Rouge didn’t sing, she instead told long winding tales of large creatures that erupted from the sea, of hail the size of islands and of giants who though they towered over Rouge, always seemed to be more gentle than you’d expect.

On the days her father was there, Rayleigh was often nearby with an expression pinched with worry. Rouge and Roger would disappear together and talk for hours, during which Rayleigh would take her down to the same secluded beach and teach her about the ocean. His tales were less magical and more realistic in terms of detail, he told her of the sea creatures they’d seen. Island whales, pods of dolphins so bountiful that they spread from horizon to horizon, dancing atop the waves, strange glowing creatures on certain islands that you could see all the way through.

On one particular day, as Roger headed out again it was with a strange sort of finality. He kissed Rouge for a long time and held her to his chest, fingers twisting her curls into even tighter curls. Rouge talked to him softly, their left hands wound together tightly as they spoke of memories they had together. Roger came over to her next, his expression loving and gentle as he swept her up into a bear hug, he spoke of wanting her to see everything the world had to offer and whispered quietly into her ear about her taking care of her mother. He pressed another long kiss to her forehead, tugging lightly at her hair, so like her mothers, and left with a half-whispered, “Goodbye.”

The news came late in the day, the sun had set and Rouge and Anne had long since eaten dinner. A news coo landed on the window, dropping a folded up newspaper into Rouge’s hands and taking the Beli offered, then disappearing again with a distant caw. Rouge’s hands shook as she read the news and shook further as she explained what had happened to Anne. It was only later, when Anne had cried herself to sleep that she allowed herself to exit the house, the paper still clutched so tightly in one had it ripped at the edge. She let the sudden wind take the newspaper and only once it had disappeared from her sight did Rouge allow herself to cry.

**

Things changed from then on, before the death of Roger the island had been largely untouched by the factions that ruled over the Grand Line. After his death though the military tore through every home, Rouge had Anne bury anything remotely related to Roger underneath the piled-up rocks on her beach. Though Rouge was pregnant with Ace, she was no less fierce and didn’t allow the Marines to destroy a single piece of furniture within their small house.

The stress of the Marines constant searching weakened Rouge to Anne’s eyes, though just over three at the time, Anne helped her mother out as best she could. Instead of her mother singing every night now, though she still sung, Anne sung her most loved songs brightly. She told her mother she was singing to her new sibling and Rouge accepted it with a fond smile.

“Anne,” Rouge said softly as she rocked to and fro in the rocking chair by the window, Anne looked up attentively at the call. “You’ll look after your sibling, won’t you?”

Anne found even the notion that she would do anything other than love and protect them offensive and nodded very firmly. “With my life.” And though this would be strange for any other child to say, the child of Gol D. Roger and Portgas D. Rouges rusty red eyes burned brightly with such fire that Rouge couldn’t help the fond smile.

“Protect your life too, Anne. You’re both my most precious things. Sing for me, Anne, would you?” As Anne began to sing a song about her favourite subject, the ocean, Rouge smiled to herself again, safe in the knowledge that her children would be fine. She would make sure of it.

As Rouge’s pregnancy exceeded 9 months and she became weaker and weaker, an older villager by the name of Maria came over to help Rouge about the house. Maria, though knowledgeable, wasn’t particularly fond of having children underfoot and sent Anne out to play for most of the day.

Knowing her beach like an old friend, Anne spent all her spare hours exploring every single inch of the beach. She lifted the half-submerged rocks with all of her might and progressed to bigger and heavier rocks, exploring the strange creatures she unearthed from beneath them. Starfish of bright and unusual colours, small silver-blue fish that sat perfectly still beneath the waves until she twitched and they darted away from her reaching hands like lightning, crabs that raised their pincers fiercely if she went too close and even the noisy gulls. The creatures accompanied her as she struggled to sort fact from fiction.

The day Ace was born, it was both the happiest and saddest day of Anne’s life. Rouge’s labour was long and painful and her screams echoed even when Anne pressed herself against the cliff face of her beach with her hands stuffed into her ears. Once it was done, Rouge was weak and tired but her face was a happy one.

“Gol. D Ace. That’s his name.” She said with a wearied smile. She gently handed Ace to Anne, instructing her patiently how to hold his head. “Look after him, Anne. He’s your little brother.”

Then, suddenly Rouge was bleeding and Maria was screaming, Garp came rushing in with worry on his face. All that was left after that was a baby, wrapped up warm in Anne’s arms, and Anne herself who struggled to understand what had just happened.

Despite the tears rolling thickly down her face, Anne immediately moved to comfort Ace as he began to wail loudly into the morning air. She sung her mothers song, her voice cracking on a few words as she soothed her little brother, and knew without a doubt that everything would change from there on out.

**Author's Note:**

> This story just has been bugging me for like three days now and I've finally managed to get it out of my head and into word form. I've got a cohesive plan to follow this time and feel like I understand this character well. In the second chapter, the story will zoom in a bit to a more day to day style. This first chapter is sort of skipping through the early years, mostly because I don't wanna assume too much about Rouge and Roger, I'd like you guys to make your own assumptions there.
> 
> I gave it a few looks over but if you see any spelling mistakes etc, please tell me.
> 
> See you in the next one.


End file.
